Ice, Ice Baby
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Ice doesn't last very long in a place like Vegas. Casefile, eventual GSR.
1. Chapter 1

_Thank yous muchly to Anni, to Lauren, to Michelle and to Amanda, for slacking out at working and talking this thing out with me. My first case file.

* * *

_Winter rolled into the Las Vegas casinos just as it did in the valleys. It was fast, it was unassuming and it was shocking. Tourists tended only to see the facade of the desert town, the dry, often-scorching heat that it had to offer.

With that in mind, even people visiting from the east casually left their sweaters neatly tucked in their closets.

Men in Birkenstocks and knee socks, women with garish, floral print blouses were caught in a wave of icy breath from the north. It had them all scampering inside to seek refuge, whether it be in slots or a show.

Gil Grissom didn't mind the bite in the air. The impromptu change in the weather meant that lines to the Stratosphere would be short and he wouldn't have to wait very long to clamber onto the ride. He, the ever-patient man-wasn't in the mood at all to wait; he needed to think, more than just a casual combing of his mind, but a dive into reality and his subconscious as well. High above the city tended to be the most conducive to a deep-tissue massage of the brain.

Paying his money, he stood in line, eyes skimming over the people surrounding him, noticing this and that. Prone to do that, Grissom was ever the investigator; he found that the minute details of a person could tell an entire novel of their past, present and future. That was what had brought him to the gargantuan metal structure in the first place-a stark 'noticing' of Sara Sidle.

It had his neurons occupied and until he had it all sorted out, he was certain he would be unable to focus on anything else; it wasn't often that he was occupied with anything other than his profession and thus the slightly off-balance feeling that had taken him over was casually threatening to send him careening off of the edge of reason.

Brought back from his thoughts by the movement of the line, he let the image of her face slip its way out of his mind's eye. No matter, it would surely float back in.

Taking a seat in a car towards the back, Grissom allowed his eyes to slip closed, much the same motion as the bar slipping down to hold him in place. It wasn't as if he needed his eyes open to begin with; he'd memorized every dip and hill, every twist and flip of the spiraling thing.

The movement had since become a comfort, a force greater than gravity propelling him through the night sky, high above the lights.

A distant whirr signaled the exposition of his journey and while the other people aboard the train found their hands grasping the padding around their safety harnesses for dear life, Grissom's fell serenely at his side. A sigh escaped him and with the release of breath a wave of tension was expelled as well.

This was just what he needed.

He waited, and after a moment he was rewarded with sudden motion, a catapult forcing his companions to screech out in elation and surprise. If it had been any other day, he might have smiled. But not this time.

Halfway through his incredibly short journey there was a faint buzzing at his hip; generally this meant his night off would be cut short. Ignoring it because he had to, he attempted to force the technological intrusion out of his mind. But then it went off again, the mechanical buzzing numbing the skin just under his belt, completely ruining the moment.

His eyes popped open and his jaw set in a stony manner. He was sure it was Brass phoning him and while he wished he could, Grissom could not blame the interruption on his old friend. 'Crime waits for no man,' he thought wryly.

The last dip, for some reason or another, made his stomach lurch. Not a lurching of sickness but with motion-happiness and he was thrown off by the odd feeling. 'Tonight will be an abundance of headaches, to be sure,' Grissom thought, as the ride lurched to a stop.

Two feet solidly on the ground, Grissom made his way around rubber-legged tourists, side-stepped a man who was retching onto the ground. A slight disgusted twist of his lips accompanied his plucking his cell phone off of his belt. The LCD display blinked 'two missed calls!' and upon flipping open the device, the name 'Brass, Jim' screamed up at him in tiny little black letters.

A sigh, this time one of defeat, accompanied his hitting 'send' and successfully dialing his last missed call. He brought the phone up to his ear, a practiced motion, one he was coming to resent more and more lately. He needed to be completely consumed by his job again; he needed that security back.

"Hello. Jim," his manner was cool and oddly paced, the cadence betraying nothing of his slight irritation.

With a blink or two, he listened to the detective recount the events of the night and the case that was soon to be at hand. Mentally, Grissom placed all of the facts he was being told, invisibly penning them to invisible paper.

A final sigh his resignation, he spoke a few words of parting into the phone and replaced it in the carrier at his hip. His thinking would simply have to wait another night.

Gil Grissom moved away from the Stratosphere and was swallowed by the throngs of people, hoping that somehow, this case might serve to lighten his mood.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks Marlou. _

As per usual, a swarm of tourists had congregated around the perimeter of the crime scene. What was it about that yellow tape that was so like a beacon? Heads moved from side to side, each trying to get a better view of what they could only assume was the carnage inside.

'That's Vegas, baby,' Captain Jim Brass surely would have said if he wasn't intent at keeping a migraine at bay. He had since stopped attempting to get the hawks to turn away; it was of no use. Death and destruction drew more of a crowd than the coming of the messiah himself would.

Passing a hand over his gruff countenance, he look on as the sea of people parted to reveal two people he knew very well. Warrick Brown ducked under the tape and then stood, holding it high for Sara Sidle. They both smiled bleakly at him and Brass found himself musing on the fact that it was as if the Queen were being led by a minion.

That's how it always looked when someone crossed the tape, at least to him-one person leading the other, holding up the plastic, introducing them into another world. Shaking the amusing image off, he walked a few paces towards them, the three congregating like a strange, scientific triumvirate in the middle of the floor.

Warrick looked up at the partially-destroyed chandelier. "Vardas Jewelers," Warrick mentioned, deliberately sounding off hand. "They have nice pearls."

Sara smiled, her gaze too drawn to the shattered light fixture. "Tina?"

Warrick simply smiled, looking at Brass. "Good place to hit; far enough off the Strip so it's not so much a tourist haven." Sara nodded and acquainted herself with the surroundings. Other than the body of a male, face up on the floor, she saw no other casualties. Glass, however, was strewn about everywhere, most of the jewels having been taken by the murderer.

Before she could ask, Brass launched into a run-down of the case. "One vic, a Brian Simonise." Brass tapped his pad, looked at the body and then back at the two criminalists. "Was shopping for an engagement ring with his," the detective sighed, but pressed on, "fiancée, Natasha Martinez. She's out in the van, hasn't been questioned yet."

Sara turned her eyes towards the ambulance, perched on the outskirts of the parking lot. "Shame."

"Life's too short, right?" Brass intoned, meaning for it to sound casual, only succeeding in sounding morbid. He rolled his eyes at his own pun but continued on.

"Anyway, we've got God knows how much in stolen 'bling'," Warrick smiled at that, "but the owner is on his way, distraught as all get out." So colorful when he wanted to be, the captain cracked a crooked smile at his two companions.

"I would be too," Sara said and bent down to look at the body, twisting her own lips when she saw the placement of the bullet. "Hey," she said, piping up, standing, and wincing as her knees cracked. "Where's Grissom?"

"Pulling up the rear," a familiar voice sounded behind them, and as a group, all three turned around.

Grissom entered the scene looking weary. "The news vans just pulled in." He looked a tad distraught, though no one brought that fact up. Chalking it up to the presence of the media and knowing Grissom's distaste for publicity, they all ignored it.

If the group had been prone to public displays, they would have groaned, but each simply flinched, the three looking to the latecomer for instruction. Grissom stood to look at the scene, already having been filled in on the details earlier. "Alright, Warrick, take the perimeter, though I gather there isn't much to be found." Warrick nodded, bent to pick up his case and disappeared. "Sara, you start with the counters and move your way around, I'll start with the body."

Brass nodded and watched Sara move off to begin processing the scene. "Was I interrupting something?" Brass asked, pretending to flip through his little log. The criminalist turned to face him, bewildered.

"Earlier? No, I just had... a date." His friend stopped flipping and glanced up. "With a rollercoaster," Grissom filled in, smiled a bit flippantly and shifted his case from one hand to the other. "The tapes-"

"Mr. Vargas said whatever is his is ours," Brass supplied helpfully. "As soon as he gets here," he finished rather irritably.

Grissom nodded a fraction of an inch and began to walk away. A sudden, high-pitched shrieking stopped him in his tracks.

"Goodness gracious, mother of mercy! My store!" A man, who Grissom could only guess was in his late thirties, appeared under the tape, hands clasped over his mouth. His hair was slicked back as neatly as his suit was pressed. 'Mr. Vargas, I presume,' the criminalist thought to himself, raising a brow at the man's flamboyant entrance. "_My goooode-ness_," he shrieked again, eyes wide with horror. "Who did this?"

Grissom backed off and smiled at the Captain, slipping away before the man could ask him any questions. Afterwards, it was the evidence that did all of the talking. As Grissom moved over the body, he heard Brass finally perk up. "Mr. Vargas, if we could step outside, I have some questions to ask you."

Shaking his head at the man's gruff way with people, he clicked open the lid of his kit and produced a pair of latex gloves as well as a pair of Tyrex shoe covers. "Foot covering as well Sara," he called in that matter-of-fact way he often had. "There's too much glass."

"Way ahead of you," he heard from below one of the counters and looked over to see her leg peek out from behind the display. He couldn't help but feel a rush of affection then and realized that for the first time in a very long while, he hadn't banished her to the perimeter. "Good," he murmured and watch the leg disappear once more behind a counter of mirror and metal.

There was a peace in science, in the gathering of evidence that he had yet to find anywhere else. Even the seclusion of his home, being wrapped in Pachelbel and Poe, didn't offer quite the endless anonymity as tweezing and lifting did.

The clicking of a camera went off several times in rapid succession, the quick flashes reminding him of the breadth of the scene at hand. Each piece of glass would have to be collected and photographed. "Can you imagine?" Sara called out, her disembodied voice carrying over the din of the commotion outside. "How much do you think the thief slash _murderer_," she paused and snapped a few more photos, "got away with?"

"I don't like to guess, Sara," Grissom said as he produced his own camera and began taking photos of the body and its surroundings.

Her head popped up above the destroyed display. "Come on, humor me."

With a sigh and a slight smile that she couldn't have seen, "Five million? Give or take?"

"That much?"

"Vargas is a very wealthy man, or so I've heard." He glanced around at the advertisements still clinging to the walls, some ridden with bullet holes. "I don't think we'll find that Enrique Vargas housed any cubic zirconias in these cases."

"I've got some expended bullets over here," Sara called after a few moments.

Grissom called back, "And I've got, well, a bunch of cartridge casings." For so many bullets, most of the damage was done to the walls.

"You thinking auto? Multiple shooters?" she called back, clicks going off in the wake of her words.

He shook his head, though no one could see it. "Too early to tell."

With that they both fell into silence, collecting the evidence that surrounded them. Grissom was particularly interested in the bullet wound in the victim. One shot, through and through, to his throat. How could the place be showered with bullets and only one person was shot? He'd have to review the tapes but the chances were good, even off-Strip, that at the peak hours there were more than two people in the store.

He bagged the glass shards surrounding the body, as well as the debris. "How can only one man..." That was something that didn't add up, something that truly didn't fit in his mind. Grissom hated that, knowing something on instinct. You couldn't quantify instincts, couldn't testify to them in court.

That was the issue. Sometimes his instincts simply wouldn't subside, even if there was no real evidence to go on. He wasn't sure which irked him more, the fact that he was feeling such things or _knowing_, deep down, that someone was getting away with a crime that they couldn't make a case for. "Damn."

Sara popped her head up, hair a bit tousled. "Huh?"

"Oh. Nothing." An expert at hiding his worries, he quickly switched the subject, not quite throwing her off the scent. "I wonder how Warrick is doing." Sara raised a brow at her supervisor but let it go, she wasn't one to push. A moment later, Warrick appeared, camera around his neck.

"Hey," he nodded a hello to Sara and Grissom and held up the camera. "Tire marks, something peeled out of here."

Grissom, who had figured as much, just nodded. "But, s'ta be expected, right?"

The three criminalists all nodded and began packing up their things.

"So whaddya think, standing smash and grab?" Sara asked, but then amended her statement. "I mean... other than the casualty?"

Grissom shook his head slowly, glancing around at all of the damage that had been done. "There's... something I can't quite put my finger on."

Warrick's mouth hung a little agape, but then he smiled. "I feel a lot of overtime coming on..."


	3. Chapter 3

Archie didn't like coffee; one cup and he would be up all night. So far, he'd been through two and a half cups and he wasn't even sure why. The caffeine kicked him in the pants and had him typing faster than he'd ever typed in his life (even that time he remembered he had a term paper due the next day).

He needed to stop, but couldn't stop sipping the damn stuff and he didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he'd heard the word that Grissom had a hunch. The only problem with that was that Grissom didn't _get_ hunches, he didn't guess and the simple fact that he'd admitted to having said hunch meant that they needed to work through the case and fast.

No one liked a cranky Grissom; Archie wasn't any different.

There was a pile of tapes Archie had to review for the day and not just for Grissom's case. Glancing up at the clock amongst the dim confines of the A/V lab, he realized that he only had a short time before he had to brief Grissom and his team.

Widening his eyes and blinking a few times, the technician pressed fast forward on the player. Noticing one of the victims, he paused the tape and pressed play, zooming in on the section with the victim. Brian Simonise was reaching forward, pointing vehemently at a tray of rings. 'A man who knows just what his lady likes?'

His fiancée had her back turned to him, arms crossed over her chest, looking anywhere but at Simonise. Suddenly, Brian spun around and began speaking with Natasha, arms flailing, eyes tightening. 'That man is _pissed,_' Archie thought and froze the tape again, printing out the frame he had frozen.

Setting the tape back on play, he sat forward and watched as the man became increasingly angry. The clerk behind the counter said something to him, he turned around, pointed, said something else, and then grasped Natasha's upper arm and shook her. _Hard. _

'And they're getting married,' he thought with a touch of humor, 'You can just see the love there.'

On screen, the tiny black and white Natasha spun to face her would-be husband and began having words with him. The clerk walked away as the two began hashing it out amongst the other customers.

For another five minutes and thirty-three seconds, the two continued to argue. Afterwards, Brian threw his hands into the air and turned back to the counter. After shouting a few times, the clerk reappeared and pulled out the tray of rings Simonise had been pointing at before.

Archie knew what was about to happen; he'd run the footage through a few times prior. Slowing down the speed of the machine, Archie watched on as the tray was placed down on the glass of the counter, watched as Natasha's bored expression became a little tighter. 'Maybe agitation?' Archie thought idly as he stared at the screen.

The man plucked out one ring and-

"Hey, Arch!" Sara said, entering the room with a flourish. Archie paused the video and spun his chair around to face her. He wondered if she'd had any coffee that day or if she was always that obscenely bright-eyed and bushy tailed. "Looking a little jumpy there."

"I'm on my… third cup," came his response.

Sara chuckled and pull a chair up alongside his. "But you don't drink that stuff."

"No kidding," Archie said, before spinning around to point at the screen. "I think I've come something here." He paused. "Well, what could be something. Finding that out is up to you guys."

Sara smiled at him and chuckled a bit; Archie smiled back. Just then, Grissom walked into the room, his own mug of coffee in tow. "Have we got anything?"

He chose to ignore how the two were smiling at each other; he must have missed something. Archie perked up and pointed to the screen. "We got your vic here, and if that's the woman in the photo you guys showed me, I'm assuming that's his fiancée."

Grissom nodded while swallowing his beverage. "Natasha Martinez," he stated needlessly and waited for Archie to continue.

"Well, look at this." He rewound the tape and played it from the first instance of the couple walking up to the counter. The three of them watched as the mini-fight unfolded and Archie paused it once more, just before the shooting happened.

A smile turning up one side of her lips, Sara said, "Well, that's never a good sign. That much hostility before the marriage?"

"That's why prenups are popular nowadays," Archie snarked and handed the print out of the couple to Grissom. The supervisor glanced at hit quickly and then looked back at the screen. "Now, give it about ten seconds and the gunman comes in."

Again, they turned their attention directly on the screen. "Now this isn't footage of the shooter himself, just Simonise and his wife," Archie said. "I mean, fiancée."

They watched on as the woman behind the counter duck, Natasha hit the floor, and Brian take a slug in the throat.

"Okay…" Sara began, eyes still glued to the carnage on the screen. "What's so out of the ordinar… wait, run it again," she urged. "Right from the beginning."

Grissom straightened his back and stepped forward a bit, leaning over so that half of his body was hovering over Sara's. She would have taken a moment to drink in the warmth if she hadn't been utterly sure that there was something on the tape.

"What is it," Grissom asked as the tape began to play once more, right from the point the couple had first walked up to the counter of rings. "I don't-

"Well," Sara said quickly, leaning forward, closer to the screen, "she doesn't seem to be too interested in that ring he's holding. What woman isn't interested in her engagement ring." She pointed at the screen and both Archie and Grissom followed her finger. "She's looking around." A pause and then, louder, more assured, "She knew what was going to happen."

"Sara..."

"Grissom, really, the man is picking out her engagement ring," Sara said, a note of agitation lingering in her voice. "What kind of woman..."

"Alright, alright. But we can't get a warrant for her place based on what you think to be human nature."

"Not only that!" Sara said and spun around to rest her backside on the edge of the desk. "You saw how she knew exactly… no, you're right, I can't do this based on human nature. But you saw her disinterest…"

"Now you have a hunch?" Archie asked her, amused. Sara shot him a menacing look and he reigned in his smile and then smothered it with his mug. "Sorry."

Grissom wanted to smile, but didn't. Sara's absolute adamancy about the woman was nearly endearing. Ignoring the tiny bit of tightening in his chest, he pressed on. "Well, Brass is questioning her now. He's got us some notes on our Enrique Vargas too." Sara nodded. "He'll brief us later on."

"And we won't be able to tell but… it looks as if the first shot hit's Simonise right in the throat! And then the spray widens, but the shots are all I our view. He's not aiming at anyone else, he's just… just… spraying the bullets around!" Sara was worked up, cheeks pink.

"You're right," Grissom said, deeply interested. "The trajectory makes no sense if he was trying to hit someone." Grissom paused in his thoughts. "Maybe just… scaring them? Showing them what he's capable of?"

Archie spoke up then, "But the man's already down, I think the shooter had made that clear already."

"So…" Grissom began again, "Either the bullet was meant for Brian Simonise or… the shooter just took out the first person he saw?"

"What about the other tapes? Anything on those?" She sat back down in the chair, angling it so that she could look at both Grissom and Archie.

Fiddling with the keyboard, he pulled up the footage from the other tape he had queued. "This is the shooter, nothing concrete here," He paused on the man bursting in. "Textbook really, all black, ski mask, semi automatic."

They watched as the man stepped into the frame and immediately took a shot; it was the shot that had killed Brian Simonise. It wasn't definitive and wouldn't hold up in court, but it seemed as if the shooter had aimed directly at the victim. 'Was it his intention all along?' Grissom thought, 'To take out Simonise.'

"If the bullet was meant for our vic, that would mean the robbery was secondary," Sara said. "But it's hard to tell, even if that's true, we have multiple cartridges, multiple rounds fired into the walls." Sara scoffed, "But he's taken care to disguise himself."

Licking his lips, hands on his hips, Grissom nodded. "Maybe too much so; he had to have left something amongst all of that anonymity." Deep in thought, Grissom missed the entirely affectionate look that Sara gave him.

Archie didn't, and laughed into his coffee.

That snapped Grissom out of his reverie. "What?"

"Nothing, I just… enjoy your one-liners boss."

"Ballistics may pan out," Grissom mentioned. "And we still have those statements to review, not to mention the treads Warrick picked up. We've got a lot to go through this evening so…"

Blinking a few times, Grissom wondered if he'd missed anything, "Let's go catch up with Brass," he told Sara and strode from the audio/visual lab.

Sara chuckled to herself and placed a palm on Archie's shoulder. "That's Grissom-ese for 'Thank you Archie.'" Just before leaving, she shouted over her shoulder, "And lay off the coffee!"

Sara caught up with him in the hallway outside his office. "Warrick's talking to Bobby about our cartridge."

"Good," Grissom assured and moved to walk into his office. Instead, he stopped and held his hand out in front of him, ushering Sara inside. Not bothering to ask him what was up, she walked by him and sat in his visitor's chair. "Is it…"

She waited for him to speak, but the way he was squirming had her intrigued. "We both have hunches." She nodded. "And we're both… never mind."

"What are you talking about Grissom?"

"It's just, isn't it… I don't want to even bring this up but… we both have these feelings about this…"

"And?" Sara asked, wondering where exactly he was going with this.

He shrugged and opened a file, signaling the finality of his next comment. "I just think it's strange that we both had one, you know?"

Rolling her eyes, she stood and moved around the chair. "I don't know," she began, but stopped as she got to the door. "But you're acting weird lately too."

He lifted his head as he watched her go. "Who knows though," she called over her shoulder. "I think it's a full moon tonight."

They'd catch up with Brass later.


	4. Chapter 4

_Kirsten most defs rocks.

* * *

_ After a few hours of sleep and a quick shower, the criminalists were back to work; back to tepid coffee, back to stale air and fluorescent lights. Warrick holed himself up with Archie while Brass decided to peruse through some old notes over bad eggs.

Upon their return visit to Vargas Jewelers, both Grissom and Sara were surprised to find new display cases where the old ones had been. These were much bigger, brighter and classier. Grissom shared a suspicious glance with Sara; the criminalists removed their glasses and stepped up to the nearest display counter.

Several shoppers milled about looking at this and that and Grissom couldn't help but wonder if the recent press, grisly as it was, had tempted these people off of the Strip. Sara too glanced around, moving over to a case resplendent with rings. "Hey Griss-"

Just then, a woman appeared behind the counter, grinning brightly at her. "Hello and welcome to Vargas Jewelers!" Grissom appeared alongside Sara, about to state the nature of their business. "Oh my goodness! You're... you want an engagement ring?" The girl bounced up and down, just a moment or two away from clapping her hands excitedly, Sara was sure. 'Probably ex-cheerleader,' she mused tiredly.

Before either could get a word in edgewise, the girl was pulling out a tray from the case. "Oh, this is awesome! This is my first engagement ring fitting!" She pulled out another tray and laid it alongside the first one, taking a deep breath, as if the weight of the world depended on her actions during this supposed transaction. "This is so exciting," she cooed to herself and stood back.

Sara was taken aback by the entire situation and somehow seemed unable to formulate words, unable to tell the girl that no, they weren't getting engaged. "You look like a five!" Sara's lips pursed, the beginning of a loud 'NO!' but the monosyllabic response refused to surface.

"She's a four," Grissom suddenly said, but when Sara looked up at him, he was looking at the clerk, a fake smile edging up on his cheeks. "You said you're new?" Grissom pretended to glance down at the rings, one of his hands reaching behind to land upon Sara's back. She glared at him and sucked in a breath but he wasn't paying attention.

The girl turned around a moment later and Grissom glanced at her nametag, Amelia. "New to the city or just to Vargas's?"

"Oh, both. Enrique is my cousin actually," Amelia looked at Sara quizzically. "Don't you like any of them?"

Sara glanced to Grissom and he gave her a look. He was playing a little game with the clerk; if she found out that they were investigators, there was a great chance that she would freeze up and refuse to answer any questions. Earning her trust was a lot easier if she thought they were unsuspecting, friendly about-to-be's. "Oh, sure. That one's... gorgeous." Sara swallowed the bile that threatened to bypass her throat and emit itself through her mouth.

The girl's eyes lit up and she plucked the ring from its spot. "Of course it will need to be sized..." And she held the ring out to Sara who took it slowly, as if it were incendiary.

"I was just asking, Amelia," Grissom grinned at the girl and then looked at Sara, "Oh and that's beautiful hon, I was just asking because I'm in here from time to time."

"Oh, you come here a lot?"

Grissom smiled kindly and nodded. "You know, gifts for the lady." Amelia smiled and looked at Sara, who was far from beaming as well as bling-less. "Is Mr. Vargas not here today?"

She shook her head. "He's hardly here at all anymore. He came in while we were cleaning up the place, had decorators in from all over the place. Said the insurance payoff was good enough so that we could remodel."

Grissom nodded. "The decor is lovely." Sara toyed with the ring as it slid past her second knuckle, the gem catching the light. " I used to see him in here all the time." Though the metal was cool against her skin, Sara tossed it back at the clerk as if it had burned her deeply.

Amelia's face screwed up. "How's that? He's usually out in back, other than that he doesn't generally come in."

"I must be mistaken."

"Yeah," the clerk said, placing a tray back in the display case. "He's been really busy with the McAllister's."

Grissom plucked a ring from the plush tray and handed it to Sara, etching the name McAllister into his mind. "Here, try this one." She took it without emotion and slipped it on; nothing but a meaningless piece of metal... "The McAllister's, I think I know them, old friends of Mr. Vargas's."

"Oh I don't know, I just know he's with them days at a time. Dave runs this place when he's not around."

"Who's Dave?"

Amelia smiled and thumbed towards the back. "Hot guy, graduated from University of Chicago, just some business minded guy I guess."

"I see, I see. Well thank you so much for your help, Amelia." Grissom said sweetly, hooking his arm through Sara's. "We'll surely be back next week."

"Oh." Her face fell a bit at having not sold them a ring. "Well, don't be a stranger. We look forward to seeing you at Vargas's again! Good luck, ah, with the wedding!"

Grissom smiled and Sara nodded and they both slipped their sunglasses down over their eyes and emerged into the hot Vegas sun. Immediately, Grissom flipped open his phone and dialed Brass. "Jim, does the name David McAllister sound as familiar to you as it does to me?" There was a pause and then Grissom grinned. "I thought so. I'll fill you in when I get back," he said and flipped the phone closed.

Before Sara could even speak, Grissom explained. "McAllisters were involved in some money laundering 'round about ten years ago but they slipped through the feds' fingers; Vegas natives."

He expected her to smile, to say something, but she stood there straight faced, lips in an incredibly tight line. "Don't ever do that again," she said, voice hoarse. With that, she turned and started off towards the truck leaving Grissom bewildered.


End file.
